A Wicked Tail
by Supervillegirl
Summary: Part 16 of my Tail series. A new, more formidable and terrible, foe appears, one maybe even worse than Eurus.


A Wicked Tail

"So, you haven't talked to her?" asked John as he swept charred and splintered debris across the floor of 221B's sitting room.

"No," said Sherlock, tossing debris into a trash bag.

John stopped and stared at him. "Sherlock, it's been a week!"

"I know!" Sherlock suddenly burst out with, looking up at John with a desperate, frustrated look.

John paused as Sherlock looked down at the floor. He then set the broom aside and squatted down in front of Sherlock. "What's wrong?"

Sherlock stared quietly at the floor for a while. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

"What way?" asked John gently.

Sherlock looked up at him. "She heard me tell her I loved her for the first time under duress. How am I supposed to tell her I meant it?"

John's eyes widened. He should have known; the way Sherlock's voice had softened that second time…

Sherlock's gaze drifted off into the distance. "I've lost her, haven't I?"

John shook his head. "Not yet you haven't. Go."

Sherlock looked back at him. "What?"

"Go," John told him. "Now. You've only lost her the moment you give up. Go."

Sherlock slowly stood as John did as well. "Do you really think—"

"For God's sake, go!" John barked.

Sherlock turned, yanking his coat off the door on his way out.

* * *

Molly sat on her sofa, wearing her sweats, a comfy t-shirt and her favorite, fluffy dressing gown. It was her day off of work, and she was going to enjoy it all she could: a carton of ice cream and a good movie or two. Anything to take her mind off of—

_Knock, knock._

Molly stood, wrapping the gown a little closer around her and moving to the door. She opened it to find the one person she had been hoping to forget about.

Sherlock held out his hands placatingly. "Please just let me explain."

"No," said Molly, starting to slam the door in his face, but it froze, unable to be budged. She stepped to the side to look out at Sherlock.

He was holding his hand out, keeping the door open with his mind. "You _have _to hear me out. Afterwards, you can hate me all you want. At least I'll know I tried."

Molly stared at him, clenching her jaw, before rolling her eyes and stepping back through the entryway and into her sitting room. The door closed a moment later, and Sherlock appeared in the doorway of the corridor.

Molly crossed her arms and shrugged. "Well?"

"Last week, John, Mycroft and I were held captive by my sister Eurus," Sherlock stated bluntly.

Of all the things she had expected him to say, that hadn't been one of them. "What?"

"She had been coming after me for a while, so we went to her," Sherlock explained. "She turned the tables on us. She was in control of that whole prison. She put us through sadistic games to test me, culminating in the revelation that the dog I had thought she drowned had actually been my childhood friend Victor."

Molly's jaw dropped. "Oh, my God."

"But the worst thing she did was force me to make that call," Sherlock went on.

Molly's eyes widened as she realized what he meant.

"She showed me footage of you at your flat," Sherlock went on, his voice becoming ever more unsteady as he went. "There was a clock counting down. She said that if I didn't get you to say the pass-phrase in time, she would blow up your flat."

Molly's jaw dropped. "'I love you.'"

Sherlock nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

"You saved my life," said Molly in a quiet voice.

"I hurt you," said Sherlock, looking up at her.

"You had to," Molly told him.

"You were in that situation because of me," said Sherlock, stepping closer. "I shouldn't have let that happen."

"There wasn't anything you could have done differently," said Molly gently.

"Yes, there was," said Sherlock. "I could have told you sooner. Instead, I was a coward, unable to say anything until it was forced out of me—"

Molly held up her hand. "Wait, wait. What do you mean? Told me what?"

Sherlock took a breath to calm himself. He then reached forward and placed his hand alongside her face. "I love you."

Molly could only stare at him. Was this real?

"You should have heard it when there was no ulterior motive," Sherlock told her. "When you would have known I was telling the truth. But when I saw you on that screen…" Molly was shocked to see tears in his eyes, "I thought I was about to watch you die right in front of me. I would do _anything _to prevent that. And that's how I told you I loved you for the first time. Not from my heart, not sincere, not even in private. It was all a game to her. All to push me away from you. And now, I've lost you, and—"

Molly couldn't let him blame himself anymore. She leaned up and pulled him into a kiss. After a moment, she pulled away. "You haven't lost me. It didn't come from your heart?" She shook her head. "You're wrong. Everything you said that day came from your heart."

Sherlock stared at her, blinking away the fading tears. "It did?"

Molly smiled, reaching up to wipe the tears from his face. "It did." She leaned closer to him. "And I love you, too."

Sherlock smiled and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Aaaawwwww."

Sherlock and Molly looked back at the entryway to see a woman with black hair and dark brown eyes standing there.

"You're both so sweet," she said with a mocking simper in her voice.

Sherlock turned towards the strange woman, putting his body in front of Molly's. "Who are you?"

"You mean, you can't tell?" the woman said, starting to cross over towards the window.

Sherlock kept himself between her and Molly. This woman's attitude and demeanor were setting off alarm bells in his mind palace. Not to mention, she had broken into Molly's flat.

"The great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know who I am?" the woman continued, reaching the window and glancing outside before turning back to them. "All those renowned detective skills, and nothing?" She made "tsk-ing" noises as she shook her head. "Your sister really over-sold you."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "You escaped from Sherrinford."

"Indeed, I did," said the woman. "She told me such wonderful stories about you and your friends." Her eyes slid over to Molly. "I had to see it for myself. And then…" she smiled, "I had my opportunity. Eurus Holmes took over the loony bin. I found my way out and followed you back after one of your little visits. What really puzzled me was why you took the helicopter instead of swimming. You could've made the trip in a fraction of the time."

Sherlock's jaw nearly dropped in shock. _She knows. How? _This woman would have escaped during Eurus' takeover, and he knew for a fact that Eurus did not find out about his and John's secret until after they had gone back to Musgrave. Eurus could not have been the one to tell her.

"But then, maybe you're still too attached to being a land boy," the woman continued.

The phrase triggered something in Sherlock's memory. _That was what Molly called me when she first found out. _His eyes cleared as he realized. "You're a mermaid."

"And a thousand points go to the detective," said the woman, moving back across the room to the entryway. "I'm surprised you didn't tell him already, Molly."

Sherlock frowned and glanced back at Molly. He could tell from her frown and the way her head was cocked slightly to the side that she didn't immediately recognize the mermaid but that she could feel something familiar about her.

"We know each other?" asked Molly.

"Oh, Molly," said the mermaid, putting her hand to her heart. "I'm hurt. All those years together, all those lovely memories… It seems exile gives people an excuse to forget all about you."

Molly's eyes widened in what Sherlock could only describe as dread. "Celine."

The mermaid—Celine—smiled. "Looks like you **do **remember me after all."

"Yeah, I do," said Molly, throwing her hand up.

Celine was jolted backwards a couple steps, and Sherlock immediately went on the defensive. If _Molly_, of all people—kind, forgiving, warm-hearted, ready to believe the best of people—was attacking first, no questions asked? This woman had to be very bad news.

Celine stared Molly down. "Now, is that any way to treat your elder?" She threw her hands up towards Molly, who countered the attack.

Sherlock immediately jumped in with his own powers, but he had barely delivered his telekinetic blows when, suddenly, he was thrown backwards and pinned to the wall, his feet dangling several inches from the floor.

"Sherlock!" Molly cried.

"I'm warning you," said Celine, her hand outstretched towards him. "Stay out of my way."

Molly raised her hand to attack Celine, but she threw up her arm to pin Molly to the other wall.

"Leave her alone!" Sherlock yelled at the woman.

Celine looked back at him, giving him an alarming grin. "I am more powerful than you can imagine."

The hand keeping Sherlock pinned to the wall began curling in towards the palm. Sherlock felt a flush instantly spread through his body. It started feeling like a sauna, and the wool coat he was wearing wasn't helping.

_Oh, God… _Sherlock thought. _She's cooking me like a microwave…_

"Sherlock!" Molly cried out. "Stop it!"

Sherlock grimaced as the heat became unbearable. He could literally feel his blood boiling in his veins, burning him from the inside out. The world started to spin as the room grew dark, agonized screams following him into unconsciousness.

* * *

Molly struggled against the invisible force holding her to the wall. Sherlock's face was red as he screamed, his eyes rolling up in his head as he passed out.

"No!" Molly screamed.

She was suddenly released from the wall. She didn't pay any attention as Celine turned invisible and fled; she only had eyes for Sherlock. Molly rushed to where he lay crumpled on the floor.

"Sherlock!" Molly cried, turning his head so she could look at his face.

His skin looked almost waxy, and his eyes were sunken into their sockets. She placed a hand on his chest and was shocked to discover that not only was there hardly any pulse but that she couldn't sense any water in his body.

Molly held her hand up, causing her phone to fly into her hand. She dialed John's phone. "John, come quick! My place!"

"Molly—" John began.

"It's Sherlock!" Molly quickly told him. "He's dying! Hurry!" She hung up and immediately set to work trying to restore the water in his body and get it working again.

* * *

"Donovan, you got that report of the Don Travers robbery?" asked Lestrade.

Donovan went quickly to her desk and pulled a file from it. She strode back to Lestrade in the doorway of his office and handed it to him. "And Forensics just called with the work-up on the Kimberly homicide."

"Great," said Lestrade. "Tell them we'll be down in five minutes."

"I'm afraid you'll have to postpone that."

The two of them looked over at the doors that led out to the hallway. A woman with dark hair and eyes stood there, her entire bearing seeming to take up the entire doorway.

"And who are you?" demanded Donovan.

The girl stepped further into the room, a menacing smile on her face. Frowning at the feeling this girl was giving him, Lestrade slowly moved his hand to the gun in his holster.

"The name's Celine, but 'Your Highness' will suffice," the girl answered.

"Your Highness?" scoffed Donovan.

Celine only stared at her.

"A little deluded, don't you think?" Donovan went on.

"Oh, not at all," Celine told her. "It's only right, seeing as how none of my kind has the power nor wits to do the right thing. You see, all you land people are so useless. How on earth did you come to be in charge? You don't have any power whatsoever. What right do you have to keep us in the shadows?"

Donovan glanced uneasily at Lestrade. Clearly, this woman was unbalanced. And unbalanced people tended to be unpredictable.

"Not anymore," said Celine. She shook her head. "Not anymore."

She raised her hands slightly, both of her fists clenched. There was a brilliant flash of light and a mighty crash of thunder outside. Lestrade glanced at the windows to see a mighty storm in full swing.

_Wasn't it just sunny outside? _he wondered. He looked back at the girl. _Strange coincidence._

"As you can see, you are no match for me," said Celine. "You will cease any resistance against me as I take my rightful place above you all." She turned one of her hands over, palm out.

A streak of lightning crashed through a window a struck one of the officers, electrifying him in an instant.

"Or else," said Celine.

Several officers, including Lestrade, pulled their guns and fired. Celine raised her hand, and every one of the bullets stopped in midair right in front of her. The officers stared in shock as they stopped firing.

_How in the hell is she doing this? _Lestrade wondered, stunned.

Celine dropped her hand, and the bullets fell as well. "Big mistake." She turned her palms towards the floor.

Instantly, the floor began to shake underneath them. Lestrade looked around in alarm to see that the whole building was trembling.

_My God… _he thought. _She's creating an earthquake._

"Everybody out!" he yelled.

Lestrade hurried towards the stairs, ushering everyone he could see ahead of him. He tried to get as many as he could, but the building was shaking harder than ever. When the officers reached the pavement outside, Lestrade frowned.

_The ground isn't shaking, _he realized. He turned to look up at the building. _The building is._

The eight-story building began to crumble as they all ran across the road away from it. Before long, New Scotland Yard was plummeting to the ground, enveloping the area in a cloud of dust.


End file.
